The Last Thief of Lorien
by pantone tiger
Summary: Henri was never meant to be Four's cepan. Henri was never meant to be anything, really. But things don't always come together like they're meant to, and there's no going back. Mild AU, Henri and Four-centric. Henri's POV. More chapters to come.
1. beginning

:::::Arthur's Note and Deviation from Canon:

_The Last Thief of Lorien_ is an AU (alternate universe) fic series centered on the relationship between Henri and Four, told from Henri's point of view. The story follows the same premise of the books and film, and will cover some of the same plot elements. However, the main difference in this universe is that Henri was never Four's assigned guardian. This first chapter will cover the beginning of their life together – with Henri finding John by chance on the night the Mogadorians attacked Lorien. This chapter will be followed by a series of chapter-stories which follow Henri and Four's life on Earth, one for each year leading up to the events of the film/book.

:::::Slash Content Warning:

This series is leading up towards a romantic relationship between Henri and Four. However, as many of the earlier fics will feature Four at a young age, they won't include any romantic content, and instead involve a lot of cuteness. If you're not comfortable with homosexual pairings, you're still welcome to read most of this fic – I will warn you when a romantic plot starts to develop.

:::::Sister Fic:

The same AU plot will be followed from Four's perspective by SuicideSilence'. Each of her chapters will relate to mine, and vice-versa. So keep an eye on her fic as well!

CHAPTER 1: BEGINING

On the night the Mogadorians attacked, all the rats of Lorien scrambled out of their warrens to watch the end of the world.

I scrambled with them, because I was as much a rat as any of them, and hell - even if I wasn't, it was no time to be acting dignified or brave or... any of those things that got you dead. So I scrambled. I skirted the worst of the danger (there was no avoiding it altogether) and ran, and I don't know where I was running because there was nowhere to _go_, but it seemed like a better idea than standing still. The Garde could stand and fight if they wanted - they were dying. All of them. I'd almost tripped over several gloriously dying Loric soldiers already, and one had begged for me to _kill him_, to let him die, but I felt sick to my stomach so I just ran.

I didn't want to die. I just didn't want to die. And it wasn't that I had much to live for - I was a low-life, a thief and a swindler. I had no friends who gave more of a crap about me than they did their dinner, my family would get on just fine without me, and... well, my poor excuse of a home was in shambles. But I wanted to live. To keep feeling the acid burn in my muscles, the painfully hot breath in my lungs, the stinging of my scraped shins. I wanted to wake up tomorrow and eat and fuck and steal and walk around like I fucking owned the place. I deserved this. I deserved to live. I was young and I was strong and I was clever. I didn't care that I was a rat, that I was an insignificant speck in this universe with no destiny or purpose to speak of - I loved myself, my living self, more than anything else.

In short, I was a vain and selfish bastard, and if the world was a just place I would have died that way.

But life is everything but fair. And as I ran like the coward I was I heard the dying voice of a man crushed beneath a fallen archway, more than half his body buried in heavy, torn rock. I wasn't going to stop - I hadn't stopped for the others. But this one -

"Sir. Sir. Please, sir. You have to help. Please..."

No one ever called me 'sir'. So it was my vanity that saved me, my vanity which caused me to stop and look down to see who it was who seemed to think I was actually _important_.

He was an older man, short-cropped blond hair and neat stubble. A nice shirt. Well. It had been nice before it was crushed under rock and soaked in its owner's blood. I knew he wasn't Garde - he didn't have those eyes, he just didn't have that look about him.

"I can't help you." I told him, breathing hard from my pointless run. I couldn't pull him out - he was dying already, just barely breathing. But he shook his head at me and leaned back a little, propped himself up to lift himself off the ground and -

There was something beneath him, something small and scared. A child - a toddler, really, the man's blood smeared against his chubby little arms. But alive, and unharmed. The man had protected him from the collapsing architecture. Shielded him with his own body - sacrificed himself. I knew then that he was a Cepan soldier then - and the child was his Garde, the fledgling protector of Lorien he in turn was sworn to protect. And he was dying. And if he died - the child would die with him, and he knew it, and the desperation was loud like a trumpet in his voice.

"Take him. Please, sir - just around the corner, there are others, at the museum. They are waiting - give him to them. They'll take care of him. Just around the corner, sir. That's all I ask."

Take him. But why should I? I was not sworn to protect anything. They'd never trust me with a Garde child. They'd sooner arrest me than so much as hand me an application. And only now, at the end of the world, did they treat me like a real Lorien, like I had a _purpose?_ I wanted to sneer, to spit on this man's face and tell him he was a few decades too late. But he pushed the child towards me wordlessly, and there came a soft coo that drew my eyes like a lure. He was a tiny little thing, wriggling onto his hands and knees, looking at me with bright blue eyes I could never read because... he was a fucking toddler, how were you supposed to know what he was thinking? How were you supposed to blame him, to hate him, to feel angry or insulted or hurt?

"Take him." The man mumbled again, his words slurring. And I still don't know why, but I did.

I backed away, this strange little thing in my arms now, not even sure what I was scared of anymore - the mogadorians, the dying cepan, or my own stupidity. Why was I doing this? I had to leave. I had to go now. Just around the corner, like the man had said, and I would hand the toddler to the first responsible person I saw and be on my way and forget all about it. And I was almost out of earshot when I heard his voice again, faltering now, almost gone and wilting like grass in a desert as he spoke.

"Wait. Sir. This. Take this. Just... in case... you..."

And then he crumbled. Just like that. No more cepan, but a cloud of dust that fanned out as the rocks fell into the place where he had been. Some of it landed on my boots - then drifted up and outwards, dissipating into the hellish, noisy skies above. And on the ground just before the rubble there lay a curved silver blade - a warrior's weapon, cruel and elegant and damn, how many times before would I have given anything to lay my hands on one? I wish I could say I hesitated, but I didn't. I knelt to pick it up and as the hilt enveloped my wrist in a chilly blue glow, I grinned like an idiot.

But the skies tore open above me then, and a volley of fire struck Lorien again. Clutching the blade and the child, I turned and ran again. Around the corner, like the cepan had said. The little Garde pulled close against me, clutching at my shirt with his tiny little hands as I scrambled over fallen rock and machinery. How was I supposed to find anyone in this chaos? How would I know it was _them_ I was supposed to give the child to? Who were they, anyway, and what did it matter? We weren't going to survive. We all knew that - even I, although I chose to ignore it, as if my cowardice would save me and I would be left on Lorien alone. But when I had made it a good way down the next road I knew I had come to the intended place - it was the Museum, half-remembered from some childhood excursion, except... except for the ship. Which I knew as well as any Lorien, of course, but there it stood now awash in lights, humming, flashing, _alive_ and -

"Hey! You!" Someone called - an authoritative voice, a hand on my shoulder. Instinctively I flinched - ready to run again. I didn't like authority. Authority didn't like me. But the man didn't give me a chance to move, his hand gripping me firmly and push-pulling me towards the craft. I stumbled forward, confused, clutching the toddler and trying to form the words I needed to explain. Was I in trouble? Really, now, at the end of the world?

"I just - I was just - "

"I hope you're ready, Solider." The stern man spoke as we stopped right infront of the lowered entrance into the craft. "You're going to be gone for a long, long time."

I don't know how he didn't notice the stunned look on my face. Maybe he was shellshocked himself - but it dawned on me then. The ship was leaving. Up. Away. Out of here. Through the doorway I saw others – Cepan soldiers, each clutching wide-eyed, tiny Garde. They thought... they thought I was one too! Me! A warrior! And this little thing whose name I didn't know, my Garde! I held my hand up in protest, but in it I still held the curved blade, and this did nothing but cement the illusion.

I noticed then that there were others around - more soldiers, their uniforms showing them to be the elite. They stood in a firm perimeter. Alert, strong, fearless. Protecting the craft, I understood. Until it flew, this last-ditch effort, and then they would be left to die with the rest. I should, I knew, give the child to one of them. That was undoubtedly what the dying Cepan had intended for me to do. It was what he had _told_ me to do - give him to them. They may not have been assigned to guard this child, but they were far more qualified for the job than I.

One of them looked up to meet my eyes, his gaze intense blue, his jaw set firmly and his shoulders impressively broad. Why not him? He even looked a little like the toddler - blond hair and those goddamn blue eyes. The way the boy might look in a few years - if he survived. If he had a guardian who could protect him, who knew what he was _doing_ -

But there was a crash then, a loud unearthly roar that tore apart a stretch of buildings just across the road - suddenly fire, and smoke, and crumbling stone as a Mogadorian ship glowed deathly red overhead. And just like that I turned my back on the soldier and made my way into the craft, the last thief of Lorien scrambling like a rat onto a ship set to sail.


	2. solitude

AN: Hi, thanks to everyone who read the last chapter. Hope you enjoyed it! I also hope you checked out SuicideSilence' 's fic, which tells the same story from Four's POV. She's uploaded it in the IAN4 book/movie crossover category and her first chapter was fantastic.

:::::::

CHAPTER 2: SOLITUDE

I quickly learned to stay away from the other warriors.

Dutiful as they were, they did not waste their time being outwardly hostile towards me - but I could taste their suspicion, for once the craft was clear of the dust and mayhem it became readily apparent that I was no elite solider. I was lanky, and dirty, my boots were worn at the soles and I moved in hurried bursts, glancing around like a nervous animal whenever I had to sit still. Soon enough they decided that I was a lower-ranked solider, a grunt who had landed this job by an unusual twist of fate. The alternative - the _truth _- would have been impossible for them to accept, I suppose.

They asked me questions, from time to time. Prying. I answered in lies, and I was a thankfully good liar - I spoke about a home in a neighborhood I'd only glimpsed in passing, and a pretty wife with long dark hair called Loralai. I told them my name was Brandon, because I'd known a soldier named Brandon once. I didn't have to lie about that, of course, but... it's hard to stop, once you start.

What would they have done if they had known the truth? There was after all no law here, amongst the stars. They couldn't jail me - they would have killed me, maybe. Tossed me into space with the refuse and leave the little blue-eyed boy alone, without a keeper.

And the boy. _The boy_.

He was the fourth of the nine. A tiny thing with little hands and a soft voice. He didn't seem anywhere near as terrified as me, and I took shameless comfort in that. On our first night in the too-loud ship we curled up together on a narrow bunk, and I ran my fingers through his soft blond locks and found that I was too scared to breathe - as if the movement of my lungs would shatter the circumstance, and the chain of events that had brought me here to this moment would unravel and spiral backwards until I reverted to a screaming death on the surface of Lorien.

But as my lungs began to burn I had to let in a gasping, shuddering breath, and he opened his eyes to blink sleepily at me.

"Are we coming home in the morning?" He asked, fair head resting in the angle of my arm. And... for all of the lies I had already told that day, I could not bring myself to do anything but shake my head.

"I don't think so." I said, tentatively, my voice hoarse - not knowing what I was expecting. Tears, a tantrum?

"Okay." He closed his eyes and went back to sleep, one hand feather-light against my chest.

***

By the third day, the soldiers had settled into a routine - which I was not a part of. This left me free to roam the ship, and together with the boy I spent one afternoon doing what I did best - sneaking around places I had no business in. This not only included every room and hallway but also every locked door, restricted tunnel and sealed hatch I could crack my way through - it wasn't as if anybody gave a damn, anyway. The ship was an antique and I was willing to bet the soldiers didn't understand it any more than some of the kids did. And very likely they didn't really care.

Not Four, though. He followed me every step of the way, blue eyes wide and curious as we unlocked rooms full of dusty machinery - all of it still functional, dials twinkling at us through the layers of dust.

"It's keeping us alive, you know." I told him, as he dragged his little hands through the dust over a monitor, drawing in a picture of two smiling suns. "It just works and works here, all alone, and everybody forgets about it. But if it forgot about us, we would die."

"That's sad." He said, wiping his hands off against one of my trouser legs. I nodded, then shrugged.

"But if it forgot us and we died, it would have nothing to do. And that would be even more sad, wouldn't it? Just to sit here alone and not have anything to do."

"That would be boring." He stuck out his tongue and made a sulky face, taking my hand and and tugging on it. "Let's go. I want to see another room."

We had been at it for hours though, and we had almost gone through them all. The other Cepans (as little as they liked to think about us) might even start wondering where we'd run off to - especially if we didn't come down for dinner. But... how could I say no to those wide eyes? I followed along and we soon found another door, small and tucked away down a half-sized service corridor. I knelt to work on the lock, using makeshift tools I'd scavenged from around the ship. Loric locks weren't particularly complex - most people didn't even have them on their doors. But that was no reason to get lazy and let your talents to go idle.

I heard the lock click, swung the door open for my little charge, and - I didn't expect anything more than another dusty room full of faithful machines, to be honest. But Four's eyes quickly told a different story - immediately widening, lips parting as he wandered inside. I quirked an eyebrow and peered inside myself - I can't lie, seeing the boy's excitement made me a little anxious myself.

And what we saw was definitely worthy of that excitement, for this tiny forgotten door lead onto a catwalk suspended high above the main engine room, angled glass sheltering it from the deafening noise the machines made. A million dusty lights twinkled around us - but there was a whole other twinkling which had caught Four's eye, the little Garde now running along the catwalk as fast as his legs could carry him.

"You're going to trip." I called out, but since I had not yet found the time to grow into an authoritative parental figure, he just ignored me until he got to where he wanted to be - standing, gaping at a large circular window that stared out into dark, starlit space.

I caught up to him and we settled wordlessly down in the dust, pressing our hands up to the thick, cool glass. We were quiet - you couldn't help it, that feeling, sitting on the brink of infinity that way. Lorien was a long, long way away now. And Earth - our destination - was so _unfathomly_ far I could not even imagine the distance, the amount of vast emptiness that lay before us.

Empty of family, of friends. Empty of enemies. Empty of anything and everything except ourselves, sitting here, _alone_.

We were the last of our race, some desperate, pathetic _hope_ pinned on... my shoulders? Mine? I was nobody! Why me? And it never occurred to me, at that moment, how vain that thought had been. Of course I was nobody. And this wasn't about me. Not in the slightest. It was all about _him._

But despite my error, I still glanced down at the little Loric boy at that moment - and was startled to see tears rolling down those soft, fair cheeks.

"Hey - hey, why are crying, princeling?"

He looked at me balefully, sniffling in silence until I raised a hand to wave him over. And that was all the invitation he needed, crawling into my arms and burying his face in my shoulder.

"I miss them." He said, tiny voice muffled and choked. "I want to go back. I don't want to be alone."

I chewed on my lip - still nervous around the boy, still scared of moving when he held on to me, like I might accidentally break him. And never, never knowing what to say - because hell, I didn't know what to think.

"You're not alone." I finally said, wrapping one of my tan arms around his narrow shoulders. "Look, I'm here."

"Are you going to stay?" He replied, looking up at me through reddened blue eyes.

"Of course, silly. Where'd you think I'm gonna go? We're in space, 's cold outside and I didn't bring my coat."

He giggled a little at that, and I felt my mood lighten the instant that shy little smile cracked on his face.

"No, no, I mean forever."

I smiled at that, but - he had a good point. A few days ago we were strangers on a dying planet. A few days ago I had lied - I was still lying - to keep my place on the ship. But would I stay? Well... why should I? I had never sworn to protect this boy, never promised anyone anything. Once we got to Earth, his life would only threaten mine - it was him the Mogadorians would hunt. Me, they'd forget me. I could live there, in that mysterious place, alone and undisturbed. Surely there was no place in the universe where there was not room for one more thief?

But there was only one answer I could give to those wide blue eyes.

"Yes, princeling. Forever."


End file.
